Evanescence
by Ben Thryss
Summary: The Goddess is dead. Serah is dead. The world has stopped. Lightning is gone. I don't know who I'm even talking to anymore... I just want you to know that I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this. - This is a collection of oneshots based off one of the ways I think things could've gone after the tear-jerking ending of Final Fantasy XIII-2.
1. Evanescence

_EVANESCENCE _~

It was like my soul had been cut out of my body. Pain was all I ever felt. It was the entirety of my existence, and I found myself struggling every second that passed to remember what it was like to feel happy.

_'The Heart of Chaos beats within my chest,'_ Caius had said_, 'a manifestation of Etro. Should my heart cease to beat, the Goddess will die once again, and the Chaos of Valhalla will be released. The Chaos has power enough to infect time itself and destroy the past.'_

I ignored him and fought on.

I saw the flash of a sword; _felt_ as Caius took hold of my weapon and plunged Odinblade through his own heart. The man who raised me felled himself with my sword.

I held Serah in my arms as she gasped her last breath and shed her last tear, and the so-called blessing of the Goddess stripped from her what little time she had left.

I watched from atop an airship as the Chaos that was Valhalla burst through the veil and assimilated Academia.

I saw the floating ark, Bhunivelze, as it plunged into the Chaos and was torn to pieces.

I saw the greatest hero who ever lived give up on the world. She ascended to Etro's throne and resigned herself to endless sleep, encased in crystal.

It was like a nightmare, only now I couldn't wake up, because the nightmare had become real. Before I knew it, a decade had passed and no one had aged a day. But then, was it really a decade in a world with no time?

I'd had enough; enough of this endless nothingness.

I looked up at the throne. A woman sat atop it, looking down in sadness. Her legs were crossed and a sword rested across her lap.

Lightning Farron; Etro's chosen warrior.

She gave up.

Now I was too.

A crystal staircase appeared before me, leading up to a small platform the laid before the throne. I slowly, sadly trudged up step by step.

It was a strange time for it to come back to me, but the only memory I had of my mother invaded my thoughts in the form of a lullaby she'd sung me to sleep with when I was a child.

_Long ago, when I was just a boy,_

_So alone then;_

_Last of my kind in the world._

_I believed if I could be reborn,_

_I would go back in time,_

_Change what's to come._

She was right. I had gone back in time, and I had changed the future.

By destroying it, that is.

I drew Odinblade and planted the prow of the blade in the platform, then knelt on one knee.

"I don't know if you can hear me, anymore," I muttered, but trailed off. What the hell was I doing? Talking to Etro? She was dead. Talking to Lightning? She may as well have been.

But still, I kept talking. "If you can hear me, please… just end it. I've played my part in this sick game of fate."

Something tickled my knee and my fingers. The platform had started to extend up my legs and arm, turning them into clear blue crystal.

"I suppose I'll never really know why you chose me, Etro, but know that I truly did try. I…"

I took one last deep breath.

"I never wanted any of this to happen."

Then, I just felt the pain start to slip away as the Crystal Stasis swept across my mind.

Then…

Nothing.

* * *

**IS:P is coming. I've got about a tenth of it done, which is sort of pathetic, but hey...**

**I just really needed to explore something else for a few minutes. I might release more oneshots set in this universe, depending on whether or not I'm in that much of a rut.**

**Anyway, I reassert that IS:P is not and never will be dead. Neither are any of my other stories, though they may take a long time to finish. That's all I need: time. Give me that and I promise you, you won't be disappointed.**

**So... yeah. Thanks for reading, guys. I hope you enjoyed it to the extent that it's enjoyable.**


	2. Separate Ways

****_SEPARATE WAYS ~_

Luxerion was a beautiful place during the day. Sunlight beat down on the gothic-looking streets and shops and children played games throughout.

Hope Estheim, clad in a prayer robe, was standing at the northern monorail station, waiting for the train that would take him to the floating island of Valhalla. He couldn't explain why he wanted to go; he just felt drawn there.

The train arrived and Hope stepped aboard. It jetted off a few moments later and Hope sat down in a clean-looking seat against the back wall of his car.

Lumina had warned him not to go. She'd said that the world would forever change if he reached the throne room, which had only served to pique the preacher's curiosity more. The weird thing was that she'd made it sound like there was something wrong with Nova Chrysalia.

Hope dozed, but when the train stopped at his destination, he moved with vigor.

Valhalla was an austere temple, the architecture of which didn't match anything else that anyone had seen anywhere. Hope wasn't sure what it was, himself. Some said it had to do with the demon, Etro, but still others insisted it was proof that the fal'Cie existed. But that was absurd; fal'Cie were stories used to scare children into listening to their parents.

Green rings of light hovered over the building, giving off a sense of power and glory that had faded into nothing.

Hope started up the steps that led from the enormous foyer into the temple proper. All around him, he could see scars from battles. Burns and rubble from blasts of magic, cuts and scars from slashes of swords, and truly peculiar slashes from what looked like gigantic claws.

Still, Hope was undaunted.

He made it into the throne room and stopped. A staircase led up to a tall crystal throne, upon which sat the crystalline statue of a woman with a sword across her lap. Kneeling in front of her was another statue; this one of a younger man, his sword planted in the floating platform on which he was placed.

Why would anyone leave such exquisite works of art in an abandoned temple in the middle of nowhere?

Hope anscended the steps and took a closer look. There was something eerily familiar about the woman's face...

"No..." he muttered, his eyes widening.

Recognition struck him hard. How the hell could he have ever forgotten Lightning Farron?

Tears burst from his eyes and he looked down at the second statue, almost afraid to see the face of the World Destroyer, as he'd been known in the early days.

The crystallized face of Noel Kreiss was what met his gaze.

Hope collapsed to his knees and screamed.

"Why, Noel?" he whispered, "Why come here?"

But Hope Estheim, Director of the Academy and former l'Cie, knew the answer. Noel had come to die and had gotten something else entirely.

His memories of Cocoon and Gran Pulse rushed back. As did the realization that he could never return to Luxerion if he wanted to live.

He tore off his robe and threw it high into the air. At a thought, a bolt of the magic he'd forgotten he had for nearly three hundred years lanced from his hand and incinerated the disgusting garment.

He would never forget again.


End file.
